


I am the Heartache built by your Deception

by versti_fantur



Series: I'll face my fear of sunrise when I wake up with your hand inside mine [1]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: M/M, Pining, Íþróttaálfurinn POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versti_fantur/pseuds/versti_fantur
Summary: Íþróttaálfurinn always thought he was content with his life; he helped people, improved thier lives, and they loved him for it. But then one reckless criminal slides into his life and makes him realise he's been far lonelier than he'd believed.Though maybe he doesn't have to be.
Relationships: Glanni Glæpur/Íþróttaálfurinn
Series: I'll face my fear of sunrise when I wake up with your hand inside mine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688965
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What better way to spend a rainy thursday than by writing Glannithro pining? Also I'm sure this has been done a million times but who cares tbh I had fun writing it so... :)

Most mornings, Íþróttaálfurinn woke to an empty bed, sheets cold and half falling off the side. That was normal. It didn’t bother him; why should it? He was a numbered hero, he had bigger things to worry about. He would spend the day helping people be healthier, and retire that night content and happy.

But sometimes, rarely, those same sheets would be wrinkled, the imprint of a bedfellow who had slipped into the night still lingering. The scent still there if he pressed his face to the other pillow and inhaled deeply. Those times, it hurt. It was those times when Íþróttaálfurinn had to face the reality that he didn’t want to be alone. He hated it. He would still go out and help people that day, but his heart wouldn’t be in it; the idea of companionship tugging at his heart. Those days, it was difficult to keep a smile on his face.

Trying to find solace in others never even crossed his mind, for he knew he’d never be satisfied with anyone but his elusive criminal. No, not his. Glanni belonged to no one, least of all Íþróttaálfurinn. _Glanni_. Even the name sent shivers down his spine, drawing memories of his own voice, husky and raw, crying out as slender hands raked down his torso, a harsh kiss bruising his lips, that dancing smirk as he took everything Íþróttaálfurinn had to give and more.

During the day, he was Glæpur. He had to be. Íþróttaálfurinn could never convince himself to track down and arrest Glanni. Glæpur was cruel and evil and a criminal. Glæpur was Íþróttaálfurinn’s sworn enemy. Glanni… was not.

Íþróttaálfurinn could barely remember how it had even started; he’d had Glanni cornered, the warrant for his arrest in his pocket and handcuffs hanging from his left hand, everything seemed as though Glanni would go to jail and Íþróttaálfurinn would have won. But the next thing he knew, their bodies were pressed together, his head slamming against the brick wall with a dull thud, but he barely registered it, too distracted by the slide of chapped lips against his own, the faint taste of cheap alcohol and cigarettes, the black pleather that surrounded the bony hips beneath his hands.

They’d ended up in a motel room with wine-stained sheets, Íþróttaálfurinn’s breath catching in his throat as purple bruises blossomed over his collarbone. _Mine_ , Glanni had hissed, and Íþróttaálfurinn hadn’t wanted to refuse. He couldn’t have. The first time had been the worst; the empty bed echoing Íþróttaálfurinn’s own anxious thoughts, but, weeks later, Glanni came back, and Íþróttaálfurinn gave himself over again without a second of hesitation. It was wrong. It made him weak. But _gods_ it was the only thing that made him feel alive.

Íþróttaálfurinn tended to sleep well, not waking up until dawn, but once, after one such midnight rendez-vous, a rustling noise drew him from the dim fog of his dreams, and in the dark shadows of the room, Glanni tugged on his catsuit and boots, facing away from the bed he had so recently occupied. Íþróttaálfurinn had never caught Glanni sneaking away before, and, even in his sleepy state, something cold twisted in his chest. Sitting up, he watched wordlessly as Glanni dressed, and picked up something from the floor, before creeping to the door, turning around just before he opened it. His eyes met Íþróttaálfurinn’s in the darkness, and, for a moment, he froze. 

An expression crossed his features that Íþróttaálfurinn hadn’t seen before, something like fear, or- No. It was guilt. _Stay,_ Íþróttaálfurinn pleaded silently, but then Glanni was gone, and the room suddenly felt very cold.

From then on, the meetings became more infrequent, often with a month or more passing between them, and Íþróttaálfurinn found himself craving Glanni more than ever. He was long past acknowledging his feelings about him exceeded mere lust, and whilst he wouldn’t call it love, it was certainly close. Maybe that’s what had driven Glanni away – he was certainly perceptive, so he could’ve realised Íþróttaálfurinn’s feelings and pushed him away. Or maybe he’d just got bored.

The next time Íþróttaálfurinn saw him, it was in the middle of one of Glanni’s schemes; he was posing as a businessman and was selling shares in a bogus company for ridiculous prices. Íþróttaálfurinn hadn’t seen him in two months, and although he should’ve been focused on arresting him, the mere sight of Glanni in that black three piece suit took his breath away. 

Under the guise of talking to ‘Magnus’ about the company, Íþróttaálfurinn pulled a bemused-looking Glanni away from the crowd he’d gathered, and into an alleyway. Glanni surged forward to capture his lips in a hungry kiss, but Íþróttaálfurinn pushed him back. Glanni frowned, straightening up, and Íþróttaálfurinn shook his head.

“What did I do?” He stared directly into Glanni’s eyes as he spoke, not allowing him so shy away, but he only looked confusedly back.

“What?”

“You don’t want me anymore. I deserve an explanation why at least,” he spoke softly, but his tone was serious. Glanni’s face gave no indication of his thoughts, but he reached up to hold Íþróttaálfurinn’s shoulder, before swallowing.

“I’ve been busy.” His eyes flickered away from Íþróttaálfurinn’s gaze, back to the crowd of people, before pulling away. “I’ll see you around, Íþróttaálfurinn.”

It should’ve been closure, but it left Íþróttaálfurinn more confused than before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may write more of this/make it a bit of a series in the future, but I'm not sure. I have about a million AUs whirling around in my head at the moment so I guess we'll see...

His interaction with Glanni had left Íþróttaálfurinn in a lower mood than usual, and not even the annual Latibær vs Stóribær sports festival could distract him from his whirling thoughts for more than a few minutes at a time. Thankfully, none of the children noticed that his performance was below his usual standard, too busy were they in trying out the new moves he’d shown them—a handstand and a forward roll—to care.

Glanni’s attitude had made him feel like they were truly over, but that Glanni had been so eager to kiss him again suggested otherwise. He wished he was better at picking up clues, at reading body language, at understanding emotions, maybe then he’d understand Glanni better. Or maybe not.

Glanni had made it quite clear that he wasn’t planning on being around for a while. Which made it quite a surprise when he sauntered out of the town hall with the sports festival trophy tucked neatly under his arm. A cigarette hung from Glanni’s lips, drawing Íþróttaálfurinn’s eye, and he immediately cursed himself. He shouldn’t be thinking that. Not now, anyway. 

But what was Glanni even doing here? He wasn’t stupid, he _knew_ Íþróttaálfurinn would be at the festival, and trying to steal a trophy right out from under his nose seemed like a ridiculous plan. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve guessed Glanni was there to see him... But regardless of Glanni’s intentions, it was still Íþróttaálfurinn’s job to uphold to law, and he cartwheeled across the square, jumping to his feet outside the town hall. He anticipated a chase, and Glanni did not disappoint; Íþróttaálfurinn caught a glimpse of that tantalising smirk before Glanni ran, his lithe body darting between buildings, his catsuit blending into the shadows. Íþróttaálfurinn felt adrenaline rise in his veins as he took off after him.

In that moment, all of Íþróttaálfurinn’s worries melted away as he focused on the pursuit, the hard grey concrete beneath his feet, the old graffiti tags along the walls blurring into a rainbow as he sprinted past, nothing mattered except catching Glæpur. Nothing at all. 

Steadily, he caught up, until he was barely an arm length away, until Glanni dodged his grasp, disappearing down an alley. He scampered up a rusted stairway on the outside of the building at the end of the alley, and Íþróttaálfurinn followed, pulling himself upwards into a flip to cut of Glanni’s escape route. Using his momentum, he jumped forward, forcing Glanni to the floor, and cuffed his hands behind his back.

Glanni made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a laugh, and Íþróttaálfurinn knew that from his current position of straddling Glanni’s hips to restrain him, Glanni surely felt the shiver that ran through him. He also knew that he probably should’ve moved by now, but this was as close as he’d been to Glanni in months, and it would be so easy to turn him over and kiss him, over and over again against the cold metal floor, to unzip that godforsaken catsuit, and- His thoughts horrified him. He couldn’t do that, he was supposed to be _arresting him_ for Gods’ sake. So he leapt back, stood up, and pulled Glanni to his feet, only then noticing the blood dripping down Glanni’s face.

“I swear if you’ve broken my nose,” Glanni stopped, the blood having run into his mouth, and he spat it out, staining his lips red, “Then you’ll owe me, big time.”

Íþróttaálfurinn took Glanni’s chin in his hand and tilted his head this way and that, scrutinising the injury, “No, not broken.” His gaze flickered momentarily to Glanni’s lips as Glanni licked them, “I wouldn’t ruin that pretty face of yours.” He removed his hand a second too late, blushing from his own unexpected forwardness. Had he been paying more attention, he would’ve noticed the hitch in Glanni’s breathing, or how Glanni’s hands clutched each other behind his back, but as it was, he stepped back, one hand remaining on Glanni’s bicep, and led them in the direction of the police station.

“I,” Glanni began, but paused, as if uncertain how to continue. Which wasn’t like him at all. Íþróttaálfurinn stopped them, and turned to face him, encouraging him to continue. At first, Glanni shook his head, unwilling to respond, but eventually he relented. “I’m not going to apologise, but I shouldn’t have left you for so long.” His words were stilted, as though voicing them was difficult, and his hands shook almost imperceptibly.

“Then why did you?” Íþróttaálfurinn replied, gently squeezing Glanni’s arm in an effort to relax him. He suppose the gesture helped himself relax too; despite the fact that Glanni’s touch usually set all his nerves aflame, now it gave him comfort.

“I already told you, I was busy,” Glanni said, too quickly, and tried to pull away. Reflexively, Íþróttaálfurinn held on tighter, he was still technically apprehending a criminal after all. Glanni frowned, staring at Íþróttaálfurinn’s hand on his arm like it was some strange object he couldn’t quite comprehend. 

“Busy doing what?” 

“Do you really think I’m stupid enough to fall for that? I’m not going to tell you all about my schemes just because you’re hot.” Glanni snapped, and Íþróttaálfurinn failed to stifle a laugh.

“I don’t want to know so I can lock you up for it,” he smiled as he spoke, amused at Glanni’s misunderstanding. Plus he already had the proof he needed to send Glanni to jail anyway, but he wasn’t going to mention that. “I just want to know what kept you so busy that you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Oh for fucks sake” Glanni said under his breath, before reaching up to grab Íþróttaálfurinn’s face (because of course he’d managed to undo his handcuffs) and pressed their foreheads together. “I couldn’t be near you because you’re—ugh—you’re _you._ ” A hurt look crossed over Íþróttaálfurinn’s face, but Glanni shook his head. “No- I mean it’s not just _your body_ that I like anymore.” He screwed his eyes shut in frustration, and opened them again, “I like _you_.”

Íþróttaálfurinn’s eyes widened in surprise, this wasn’t like Glanni at all; usually he was suave and smooth and full of beautiful words that made Íþróttaálfurinn’s head spin, but here he was, bearing his soul. Words were failing him, and Glanni’s emotions were raw on his face, and if Íþróttaálfurinn didn’t do something soon he may just lose Glanni forever. So he did the only thing he knew. 

Technically, they weren’t very far apart from each other, and Íþróttaálfurinn only had to move an inch or so closer to kiss him, but it felt like jumping off a cliff into the abyss. Glanni’s lips were soft, and the kiss was gentle and tender and nothing like the ones they’d shared before. It lasted only seconds before Íþróttaálfurinn pulled away, his heart pounding in his chest, but the red flush over Glanni’s cheeks brought a smile to his lips. He hoped Glanni had understood.

“I’m still taking you to prison,” he laughed as Glanni smiled back at him. The blood from his nose had smeared across his cheek, but he was still the most beautiful thing Íþróttaálfurinn had ever seen.

“I’d like to see you try,” Glanni smirked, seemingly back to his usual self, and, after pressing a quick kiss to Íþróttaálfurinn’s cheek, ran backwards to the railing, swinging one leg over, before twirling the handcuffs around his finger. “And I’ll be keeping these for later,” he said with a wink, before jumping down, and disappearing once again. He should really have given chase, but Íþróttaálfurinn found he didn’t really want to, not now their relationship had developed into, well, whatever the hell it was now. Plus, he was fairly certain he’d see more of his -yes, _his_ \- gorgeous criminal later that night anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments and kudos, they totally brighten my day :D

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Heaven's Calling by Black Veil Brides
> 
> Comments and Kudos bring me such joy :)


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